The Anonymous Hippopotamus

I love you

2011-11-20T01:59:00.000-08:00

Lord in heaven,

Please take good care of her. Tell her that I regret not treasuring her the last time I saw her. Tell her that I miss her already, and I would do anything to hold her one last time. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't see her one last time, I hope she can forgive me. She should know my heart was with her till the very end. The 19 years we've had together were wonderful. Although I regret not giving her the attention I should have, it was a comfort to know she was always there when I needed her. I hope she wasn't scared. I hope she was happy knowing that she was with the people who loved her the most. If it wasn't clear to her before, most of all, tell her that I love her with all my heart. She was the best dog I could ever ask for. Please, tell her that I love her. Tell her not to forget me while she's having all sorts of fun in heaven, because I'll come looking for her one day. And when I do, I'll expect to see her perky self, wagging her tail happily at the sign of familiarity.

Amen.

Come Home, We Love You

2010-06-26T19:55:00.000-07:00

And so, the U.S.'s run in the World Cup ended in the Round of 16 match against Ghana. The excitement, enthusiasm, and hope I had after our unforgettable match against Algeria is gone. Sure I said that I was satisfied with U.S. advancing to Round of 16, but when things are going good, one can't help but want more. It was a miracle that we made it to this match. Even after we lost the first goal in the first five minutes, I thought it was going to be okay. The way the U.S. had been playing, they were good at digging themselves out of holes, especially in the second half. We have a way of pulling through when it counted the most. We like to keep everything suspenseful, and even if it seemed like all hope was lost, something amazing happens. Well, even until the very last minute of overtime, I still had hope that we would pull something like that again. But the whistle was blown, and everything ended. Even if we won this round, we wouldn't have went much further if we only counted on adrenaline, stress, and last minute miracles.

The disappointment the U.S. team must feel....it breaks my heart. Their goal was to get to the Round of 16, which they did. But still, it must feel like a lost opportunity. Donovan, who has been through so much these past 4 years deserved another glorious moment, just as he did 2 days ago. To see him kneel on the field in disappointment is just to heartbreaking to watch. I hope they know that America is still proud of them, and they should be proud of themselves. We'll only get stronger, you just wait and see.

Landon Donovan, come home. L.A. misses you. and we still love you more than ever.

When Cancer Has A Face

2010-04-20T01:57:00.000-07:00

"Don't take life for granted, because tomorrow isn't promised to any one of us." - Kirby Puckett

Lately, I've just been surrounded by cancer. I did not think it was going to be easy shadowing at the pediatric oncology clinic. But no matter how much you emotionally prepare for something like this, it's not going to be easy. When you meet people, feelings become involved. Whether it's being in a room with them for 20 minutes or simply shaking their hand and exchanging a few words, human emotions become involved. Just a short encounter is more than enough to put a face on cancer. And when cancer has a face and name, everything becomes different. I can never think about "cancer" the same way. The word is now vivid, with personalities and stories, and remembered with a little heartache.

Last weekend, it was my first time doing Relay for Life. It was an interesting experience. Several times throughout the 24 hours, I found myself overwhelmed by the number of people out there -- all supporting a common cause. As I was waiting in line for dinner, I remember looking at the tremendously long line and thinking, "Wow, all these people raised at least $100 for this cause." All those people cared. Just when I think that compassion is becoming a rare commodity in the world nowadays, something like this happens. I'm truly moved.

Anyway, Relay was very fun. Our team raised a lot of money because of these super cute cupcakes that someone's sister made. The track had these annoying white rails that lined the innermost lane of the track, which look like the lane itself. I tripped at least five times during my time at the track. And the track had this weird trench area, which was obvious and never a problem in the daylight. But after the Luminaria ceremony at night, I almost landed on my face as I tripped into the lower ground. Pissed off as I was, I was complaining about the hazardous track to my friend when a random hole decided to form out of nowhere on the field that caused me to--yes, trip. Later that night, Gordon and I were playing frisbee on the field. For some reason, the universe decided that it would be a good idea for the night to be unusually cold, resulting in crazy amounts of condensation--everywhere. The field looked like it was rained on, and as a result, I fell on the grass twice and looked like a fool because no one else fell at all. And this morning, as I was recollecting the weekend and counting the number of times I fell/tripped, I slipped over a really, really small puddle. True story. I think I tripped/slipped/fell more times during the recent 24-hr Relay than I did in the past 2 years before it.

A Rollercoaster of a Night

2010-04-10T02:06:00.000-07:00

I don't know why people are surprised, but shouldn't we have all realized that it was going to come to this? An untreated blood clot in the brain, isn't that a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode? The incompetent doctor...one month wait for the neurologist...surgery versus no surgery...we all should have known that this was going to happen.

Frank first called me at 9:47 pm. He asked me where J was, and coincidentally, she just left the room 2 minutes ago. And suddenly, it became near impossible to contact her. I asked him what was wrong, and he was reluctant to tell me at first, but then he told me he just had a stroke. I kept talking to him on the phone, and maybe five minutes later, he was telling me he was bleeding from his ears...and soon his mouth, nose, and eyes. All that was going through my mind was when the ambulance was going to get there. He of course was freaking out because he couldn't get through to J. Meanwhile in the room, we were frantically calling everyone in J's ministry to try to get in contact with J. Apparently, they were in church and no one was picking up. Thank goodness Frank still had enough consciousness to tell me the username and password to get inside the ministry website, so I could have access to the roster will all the contact information. I don't know whether it's a coincidence or all in some superior power's plan, but the only reason why I knew of the existence of such a roster was because earlier in the day, I was being nosy and reading what J was writing on the ministry forum. She happened to use an acronym "CIR" or something which meant, "contact information on roster." If she didn't tell me this, there was no way I would have known how to contact her.

So after 10 calls or so, we finally reached someone who happened to be in the same room with J. But just before then, I was on the phone with Frank, and he was going through some serious emotions. He was scared, of course he was. He didn't understand why the doctors weren't doing anything. One of the first doctors to see him said that there was nothing that could be done, and he might not make it. For some reason, Frank told me that he had 10 minutes (of life) left, and all I could do was cry with him. He couldn't understand why J couldn't be there for him when he needed her most. All I could say to comfort him was, "Just wait, don't worry, we're almost there."

I don't know what it feels like when someone tells you, you have 10 more minutes to life. But whatever it was, I could feel some of that as I was on the phone with him, and it was devastating and heart breaking.

They managed to drain the blood that was filling his brain, which saved his life. From what I could understand, the blood clot in his brain is now gone, and things should be fine. It's insane to think that it took almost dying for him to get better. Hopefully, the toughest hurdle has been overcome and it will only be uphill from here.

He didn't want us to visit him in the hospital, but we're going to see him tomorrow when he's discharged. Now that they say he's going to be okay, all Frank can think about is about his assignment that is due next week. Are you serious? He should seriously get his priorities straight. It's all this stress that led to a situation like tonight in the first place.

P.S. His assignment was an anthropology essay about the cemetery. Like, seriously? After a night like tonight, I would not be so eager to visit the cemetery. Talk about a hardcore student.

Is it wrong to love Darth Vader?

2010-03-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi, which completes my spring break marathon of Star Wars. I've been working on the muscular dystrophy project since Wednesday, and it's been sucking the life out of me. Since I procrastinated all quarter, I suppose working right when I wake up until I go to bed every day for five days straight is an appropriate punishment. I thought it was going to be easier, but I was wrong. After every image, I wanted to cry just thinking about the next one. But I made it more bearable. I'm an excellent multi-tasker, thus I was able to watch Star Wars as I was doing this. Although not the complete experience, since I listened more than I watched. So now I can finally say, "Yes, I know what Star Wars was about."

It probably made a difference that I watched I, II, and III before IV, V, and VI. I was completely sympathetic to Anakin. I was never able to hate Darth Vader, because everything Anakin did up to be point when he became Darth Vader, was out of love. He loved his mother, Padme, and even Obi-wan so much. It broke my heart when everything he treasured slipped through his fingers. The true villain of course, is the Sith Lord, the only character I hate. Is it wrong to love Darth Vader, or rather, Anakin? He was born as Anakin Skywalker, and died Anakin Skywalker, so this is what I'll call him from now on. "Darth Vader" was Anakin's despair, when everything he loved was taken away from him. Unlike Luke, Anakin's heart was weak, unable to bear pain and suffering. I really feel for him.

Other things happened since my last post too. But I got too much Star Wars on my mind to either remember or care.

Monster

2010-03-15T03:38:00.000-07:00

12 hours of intense studying, and more to go. Just thinking about rereading my lecture slides makes me so sad, but it must be done. As I was studying, I realized how much I didn't understand when I was taking my second midterm for this class, which makes me even more sad. I'm an avoider, so I avoided getting my second midterm back so I still don't know how I did. I thought it did average, but after my intense day of studying, I'm pretty sure I didn't. "Food for Finals" was today, and this time, they gave us this Monster energy drink. I drank it, nothing happened, so disappointed. I mean, with a name like "Monster Hitman: Energy Shooter," you would think otherwise. Or maybe I'm the real monster here. The little monster energy drink is no match for the big sleepy monster.

Frankster Update: The doctor said there's nothing wrong with him, and his symptoms are normal symptoms for a blood clot, and that it would go away on its own. Since when did having seizure-like symptoms out of nowhere, fainting, tremendous weight loss, and chorea considered "normal." He's suffering like fuck, and there's seriously nothing you can prescribe to treat him? You incompetent son of a bitch. I told Frankster to get a second consult, but he dismisses the idea. This deep bond of trust between Koreans and their common regard of all others as untrustworthy is baffling to me. On one hand, when I think about their history, I do get it. But on the other hand, I totally don't.

My mom called me while I was studying.

"My friend gave me some music, it won't play on the computer."

"Oh."

"I dragged it and it won't play."

"I don't know, mom."
"Can you tell me how to fix it?"

"I don't even know what's wrong."

"It won't play."

"I have to see it to help you."

"So how do you make it play?"

"........................"

On Edge

2010-03-02T04:01:00.001-08:00

Everyone's on edge when it comes to Frank. About half an hour ago, I went to check on him, and I saw that he shuffled, so I assumed he was alright. But Aqsa woke up, and seemed alarm that someone just came in the room.

"Jess, is that you?"

"Uh...yes..." and I leave the room quickly.

I am such a creeper. I sneak into people's rooms late at night and stare at them and leave. About 5 minutes ago, Aqsa just came in our room and asked to check on Frank because he was really restless. This boy needs to see the neurologist soon. Everyone's on edge and scared.

Henna Party!

2010-03-02T01:32:00.000-08:00

Bunch of cool stuff at floor meeting today. There was nutella! People were super excited, even though I couldn't see what the hype was all about. I like chips, which I was more excited about. And then, there was henna. This was what I got. I kinda wish it was black, so badass with my flowery designs.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

In other news, I hope G won't be broken. I can't see him broken, it will destroy me. I hate what she's doing to him. If it was anyone else, there would have already been a showdown. But G is so sweet, and frankly, passive boy. She will tear his heart apart, and guess whose going to have to pick up the pieces? Then again, some part of me thinks that M and J are meant to be together. Who knows.

I think Frank's problems act up at night, around 3-4 am. Last night, he had temporary paralysis throughout his whole body, and he had difficulty breathing for half an hour. He couldn't move, so he wasn't able to call for help. Andie suggested that Jess gets a baby monitor as a joke, but it actually makes a lot of sense. Jess was looking into getting one, which would probably destroy any man-pride that is left in Frank. Because of last night, we decided that we would all watch over Frank to make sure he's still alive. I was left with this post-it note on my desk:

"Remember 2 check on Frank. Get a chair or step on his desk to look over his bed. Get Rus 4 help if needed."

It's so serious, I'm even given precise directions on how to look over a top bunk bed. We're all very concerned about Frank. Jess called the hospital again to see if they could move up the neurologist appointment, but they said no, and if anything serious happens, go to the ER. I mean, seriously? This boy has suffocation episodes while suffering from paralysis at the same time, and he had an incident where he couldn't open his eyes in the middle of driving. It's so obvious to everyone that this is very life threatening, but they still refuse to see him earlier. If this is our health system, then it's quite clear to me that reform is needed. It doesn't make any sense to me why someone whose life is clearly in danger, and the people who we have entrusted our lives to when we need them the most don't seem to care enough.

Frankster

2010-02-28T17:54:00.000-08:00

Frank is going through some serious health problems right now. A lump formed on the back of his neck, which was diagnosed as a blood clot. Ever since the "blood clot," he's been experiencing some pretty dangerous symptoms. In the beginning, he had an episode where he had difficult breathing, in which he fainted shortly after. Since then, he has been having headaches throughout the day. Most recently, he's hands have been twitching. Last night, as he was pulling into the garage, he suddenly was unable to open his eyelids; his mother had to help him park the car. He's been feeling numbness in his face and limbs, and it seems the symptoms are worsening to which each day.

Last night, as we were all going through his, Jessica ended up calling the ambulance to his house. He became very angry, and Jess said, "What am I suppose to do? What am I suppose to do when your hand is twitching?" It was so heartbreaking to watch. I don't think his parents see the seriousness of the situation because he isn't expressing it to them. Jessica is carrying all this burden and it's too much for her to handle. I kept telling her that she did the right thing. I would have done the same thing in her position. This is something you can brush off as nothing. It's no fucking flu. Thank God he reached his garage before he lost the ability to open his eyes and move his hands. What if he was in the freeway or in the middle of driving? Can't his parents see how dangerous this situation is? Poor Jess is worried that Frank is going to die, and she can't understand why his parents aren't doing anything about it. It's a month-long wait to see the neurologist, what are we suppose to do before then?

Blowfish Harnett

2010-02-28T17:44:00.000-08:00

New shoes, again!

After searching far and wide (on the internet), I finally found my love, the Blowfish Harnett! I first laid eyes on it during my last trip to DSW, but I didn't buy it because it was not in my size. But I went home, and found it.

I bought these Madden shoes on Ebay. I think I'm going a little bit crazy with shoes.

Next Stop: Europe. Actually, I pick Indonesia again.

2010-02-27T03:16:00.000-08:00

Create your own travel map or travel blog

Vacation rentals at TripAdvisor

Domination

2010-02-26T02:34:00.000-08:00

YouTube - kesha tik tok (cover)

This is why I hate the internet, I truly do. There's really no reason why people need to be so mean. The internet makes people feel safe to show their true colors. They can be as cruel as they want and suffer no consequences. It is a hate machine where civility, courtesy, and principles come to die. It truly breaks my heart. Where did 18 years of parenting go?

It is disgusting how people get some kind of sick satisfaction.

"I looked at my life and it will never be as bad as what this girl sees in the mirror." -Fonzie12343

Like, seriously? Did you just say that? I can't fathom how anyone would think it's okay to say something so cruel. The comments about her looks and singing, most people come to the same conclusion. Whether to say anything inappropriate is what separates the douchebags and people who know better. Every time this happens, and it happens quite often, it breaks my heart. How do you defend someone from a mob? How can people attack someone so harmless?

In other news, I played root beer pong with my floor yesterday. Andie and I, the "David Stompers," totally stomped David. We had no intention of winning, and frankly, Andie's confidence was negative if it was possible to have something less than zero confidence. She kept wanting us to leave, but I couldn't understand why she wanted to leave without even trying. I would have been happy if I made just one.

David is someone on our floor who teases Andie a lot. He has played beer pong plenty of times, which is probably why Andie had no confidence. He kept saying how he was going to dominate us, which is why Andie decided on the name "David Stompers" as a joke, even though we didn't expect to win.

It turns out, I have pretty good hand-eye coordination. The "David Stompers" stomped David real good. Andie didn't make any in the beginning, but she was getting better and better. Sometimes she was too nervous, so I coached her through it. It must have been pretty disgusting to watch us play. It was full of, "It's okay, you'll make it next time," "You can do it, I believe in you!" And when we finally won, we were jumping up and down and giving each other double high-fives. Everyone rooted for us because we were the underdogs. They kept explaining these strange rules to us, and I would respond with, "This game is confusing..." *furl brow* My favorite R.A., Omar, was supportive of me, which made me really happy.

"It's okay, Andie, she's got your back."

"Nancy dominates!" x 50 throughout the whole game and the next round, where we lost by 1 cup.

I heart Omar.

Chinese New Year!

2010-02-14T16:40:00.001-08:00

Our small family of four gathered for the Chinese New Year's Eve meal. Meals with the brother either turn out really awkward for me, or very, very hilarious. Yesterday, it was the less fun one. He's trying to convince my parents to do the less expensive option of fixing my jaw, which is to not fix it at all. I'm not quite sure how I feel about all this. On one hand, I really want to fix my awkward profile face. But I also don't want to use my parents' money when there's not a lot to go around. I know my parents want to because they adore me to death, but ultimately I get to decide whether to green light it or not. They keep saying like I'm going to pay them back when I become a doctor, something I'm not even sure about anymore. Not because I've lost the passion for medicine or helping people, but because of the cost of medical school and the time it will take to get there. Just thinking about the crazy debt I'll be in already puts me in depression.

And then there's the other thing on my mind. Right now, I feel like everything has led up to this point. When I think about it, it makes so much sense, but to pursue it would be foolish. So all I can do is pursue a future that will kill me for the next decade while hoping that the foolishness I'm working on the side will be my savior. Because of genuine love for the characters and story, I really can't give up. To do so would be to betray myself and all that I am.

.. .

Chinese People Loves Flowers and Fruits

Steve Madden Baby

2010-02-13T16:14:00.000-08:00

Went to the orthodontist. I'm high maintenance, it'll cost me near $10,000 to fix me. Left, went to Union Square and saw food. Was in a hurry to go home to study, then, my mom took me to DSW. Huge mistake. When I was in the shoe store, it was like "Fuck UCLA, fuck my midterms. Shoes." I was crazy in there, my mom knows better than to bring me in there again.

Dance Marathon Benefit

2010-02-10T23:24:00.000-08:00

Anh is my favorite, marry me. I love Bruin Harmony.

Love his solos.

"Tote Bag" Tote Bag

2010-02-09T19:06:00.000-08:00

She's so tired, don't want to wake her up yet for dinner, so I'll just make a short post. Yesterday I made a tote bag with my floor. It's part of the whole green thing, whatever that is. Isn't mine super creative? Andie told me to draw the Louis Vuitton logo on it. I wanted to, but the front side didn't dry so I couldn't.

I'm almost going home soon for Chinese New Year and Single's Awareness day! My second round of midterms are coming up, tears tears.

I hate being team leader, it stresses me out.

I'm super excited for my super secret project. I'm getting a lot of inspiration these days.

My brother send me a link cryingwife.com. Basically, this husband records his super emotional wife watching movies. It's kind of funny to watch. My favorite line so far, "Does R2D2 get put back together?" Haha, adorable. He sent me the link because I'm known to be super emotional too when I'm watching movies. In fact, I was watching Crying Wife watch the ending of LOTR, and when I heard the music and saw that she was crying, I started to cry too. I was crying watching Crying Wife. Pathetic, I know. Someone please bitchslap me back to my mother's womb to get better genes.

Is it that easy to get published?

2010-02-07T14:28:00.000-08:00

Thirsty Thursdays! Last Thursday was my first time. It was fun to loosen up. A shot of gin and rum...it was kind of difficult to hide my disgust every time I took a drink. I don't plan to do this very often, but I did do it to see what it was like. I don't ever plan to be drunk in public, it is quite humiliating. I remember the couple people who were seriously drunk and vomiting on themselves totally ruined everybody's mood. I don't know whether we reeked of alcohol when we returned, but my roommate knew. She was overly kind to us, had long talks with her Christian boyfriend outside in the hall, and started pestering Andie to go to church. According to her standards, we are already damned for an eternity in hell, stop trying to save us.

The first chapter of the "Shadow Souls," the new installment of "Vampire Diaries" has been released. I've never even heard of the series until I watched the series on the CW. The first episode was pretty awkward, but it progressed and has improved a lot. I'm hooked! In my quest for more and more spoilers on the upcoming episode, I found myself looking into the original books themselves. It is probably one of those rare instances where the small/big screen portrayal of the story is SO much better than the book. It was awful. I could barely read the first chapter without deciding whether to crack up or turn away in disgust. I thought Stephanie Meyer was bad, but at least she was bearable (almost). These women are so obsessed with beauty and all they do is write about vanity. Would Bella love Edward if he was ugly if ugly vampires were possible? All she really does is obsess about Edward's sparkles and worry about aging. That bitch, I hate her.

I can do better, and I will.

Where's Kanye when you need him?

2010-02-02T04:01:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching the highlights of last night's Grammy's. I also spent a buttload of time watching vlogs that ranted about Taylor Swift winning Album of the Year because it calmed me that other people (most) felt the same way. In my world, its almost unfathomable why anyone else by Lady Gaga would win an award that she was nominated in. But to be fair, I would have understood if Black Eyed Peas or Beyonce won, but no, it had to be that teenybopper that sings mediocre music. Sure her songs are fun to sing to, but no one is really a fan, unless you're a tween who still thinks music is about looking pretty. Taylor, seriously, this is called media backlash from overexposure. I'm glad her publicist are getting her off the spotlight, I've sure had enough of her. She should be thankful she didn't win more Grammy's. That poor girl couldn't handle all the criticism. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wished Kanye was drunk at an award show again.

And seriously Taylor, can you stop acting surprised every time you win something. I mean, you've already won a bunch. If you keep doing this, people might actually realize you're faking it. Oh wait, they already do.

How many lives does it take to catch the world's attention?

2010-01-22T19:54:00.001-08:00

I went to a benefit today for Haiti. I was quite amazed at the turnout. We are in a time and place where everything that is done is for one's benefit. People say we are selfish creatures in a cruel world, doing what needs to be done to get ahead and stepping on those they are left behind. But in days like this, I can't really see it. People came today, because they wanted to. It was sincerity. No one there was thinking about themselves, for the first time in who knows how long, people were thinking about others. So, how many lives does it take to capture world's attention? How many lives does it take for us to remember?

Haiti is the poorest country in the Western hemisphere, yet very few cared until the disaster strikes. I'll admit it. The country of Haiti has never crossed my mind before the recent earthquake. When I think about it, my concern for the Haitians right now is probably fueled by my guilt from years of ignorance. The people of Haiti have always suffered. Everyday, people are dying of malnutrition. Yet, I've never really thought about it. Why did it have to take hundred of thousands of lives to get my attention? It's everywhere...on the news, on the internet...the images of death and destruction, of grief and despair. I hear it now, their cry for help. It's loud now, amplified by the press, celebrities, and coffee breaks. But haven't they always cried for help? We've ignored them for as long as possible, until thousands of mothers and fathers shove the bodies of their dead children in our faces, across every living room television, magazine cover and the front page of every newspaper, did we respond.

Perhaps some good can come out of such a catastrophe. The world's eyes are on Haiti now. But the question is, for how long?

Oh yeah, I made this at the benefit. I think this is more Mardi Gras, then Haitian.

You must think I'm a fool.

2010-01-19T01:44:00.000-08:00

What are these people thinking? I always get these emails in my spam folder, and I always get a kick out of it. I can't fathom anyone falling for this, like seriously.

"I am very sorry if I may violate your policy....I am Miss Elizabeth Akai, 21 years old and the only daughter of my late parents Dr.and Mrs. Akai Morrison My father was a highly reputable Business Magnate-(a Crude Oil Merchant) in the capital of GABON...i really need your help in transferring the sum of (2.5 million dollars) into a foriegn country...Your share reward & compensation is 30% while 70% for me and my investment, transaction is 100% risky free...please do not turn me down because you are the God's sent that can help me out."

Advice: (1) Proof-read much? (2) Stop insulting my intelligence.

Living

2010-01-16T03:09:00.000-08:00

I'm usually quite content just sitting peacefully in my room without a place to be or things to do. But tonight, I remember what it was like to have "fun." Andie and I decided to attend the Bruin Ball hosted by GOC. We were reluctant to go since it was GOC, but it turned out to be quite fun. Rus and Aqsa went as well. By the time we got there, it was 10ish, but time flew back. By the time we left, it was almost 2am. Of course I was tired, but I didn't realize it until the event was over. Between screaming and cheering for the sophmore class and playing ice hockey, the excitement made me feel like I could go on forever. It's been awhile since I was social. For the longest time, I have had a selected few close friends, and I was content with that. I actually prefer it this way. But I forgot what it was like to scream your lungs out with a hundred other people. I forgot was it was to chat and mingle with others, even though you've never seen them before. I forgot how exhilarating playing a competitive sport with others can be. I didn't know I missed it until tonight. I always believed that my body was too lazy to move, but perhaps I've been holding back. It's late, so I'll end this entry with a couple adjectives that are running through my head right now: liberating, exciting, fun, overjoyed, living.

Elated

2010-01-10T21:09:00.000-08:00

Happiness. It's amazing how simple words can bring someone so much happiness. How are words on a screen processed in the mind, and through some intricate processes, bring the feeling of joy?

I was just talking with my little brother, Bayu online. He's so cute, now he has a girlfriend! I love ibu, bapak, and Bayu completely. Bapak always says "Thank you for remembering us." He doesn't realize that it's near impossible to forget about them. I don't think they have a full understanding about how much joy their generosity has brought me. I don't think they realize that I can never forget about them. I have a picture of them sitting on my desk right now and wallet size copy of that in my wallet.

"You are the best sister." -Bayu

Yes, those were the words that sent me sky high and smiling until now. It took me awhile to calm down, but I responded, "You are the best sister too." I love that boy to pieces. Sure he's a little rebellious and always carry this "I'm too cool for this world" attitude, but he's such as sweetheart when you get to know him.

I will work hard, so one day soon, I will see these people again. They're physically so far away, but always so close to my heart.

Drowsy

2010-01-09T18:29:00.000-08:00

Can I win this? I say "yes!" Positive thinking all the way. I'm on the verge of getting sick. Of course, I'm sure the fact that both my roommates came back sick from winter break had something to do with it. My throat is a bit itchy and I'm tired even more easily. So I've been downing some Vitamin C tablets, orange juice, and medicine.

So recently, I've been talking about someone a lot lately. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the small crush I have ;-) But the thing is, other people are starting to notice. It's kind of embarrassing considering the situation. Even though it's pretty difficult not to think about him, I haven't talked about him all day today. It's dangerous to keep your heart on your sleeve. It makes you vulnerable. Yesterday, mother encouraged me to find a boyfriend before it's too late. She says she doesn't want to wait for me to be 30 to be married. I don't like it when she speaks in that way. I worry enough about the fleeting years. I can't stand it when they talk about that mortality, just thinking about it is enough to drown me in sadness. I'd like to find him too. But is there really someone for everyone? Then why do people die alone?

I Break Things

2010-01-04T22:48:00.000-08:00

Hi, I break stuff. Maybe that's how I should introduce myself to others now. My mom asked me how I do it, and I don't know either. In high school, I broke my flip phone in half and used the bottom half for half a year. Now, I'm going to keep a list.

1. Foot Massager (Winter Break 2009/ Stepped on it too hard, i.e. too fat)

2. Rice Cooker (Winter Break 2009/ Set stuff on fire, melted the cooker)

FUBAR

2010-01-03T01:53:00.000-08:00

I'm back in L.A. I was hoping to go back early so that I'll have maybe a day and a half of peace -- I was wrong. I suppose great minds think alike. Many people are already back, possibly to avoid the insane traffic tomorrow. My neighbor "Mundane" is back, and already his girlfriend is over there. I really hate her voice, it drives me freakin' insane. Is it possible for people to be whiny 24/7? She could say "hi," and I feel like punching her face. I'm really moody right now. I know people are like to socialize or whatnot, but I'm a homebody. I could find happiness in a place where there was not a soul for a one mile radius for awhile. Other than noise, I'm still bothered about school matters. The peak of my depression is over, I turned it down a notch. I now stand on a plateau of constant unsatisfaction with life. Save me. And save that girl from being shot with a bazooka.

I'm trying to blog more. The other day, Morgan and I were reminiscing about high school. She was talking about the first and only time she received detention and how I was there documenting the extraordinary with my camera phone. But we couldn't quite remember the reason. We think it was because we were late, but Dr. Pacovsky let us go, but Mrs. Beck didn't. But then why was Morgan the only one doing it? We couldn't quite put the pieces together. It saddens me. Life is passing me by so quickly. High school feels like yesterday, but the memories are fleeting. So I've decided to write them down :-) Time is passing too quickly, and it scares me. I want my parents to live forever.

To love, to Happiness, to Indonesia

2009-08-18T21:41:00.000-07:00

It's so ironic that the greatest pain in the world stems from our love. An inherent contradiction in this joke that is the world. The heavy feeling in my heart that I was too scared to name manifested itself in the phone call I had just now with my parents in the simple form of tears. As I spoke of my bapak, ibu, and adik, as if it was only natural, my voice started breaking without my control and the next thing I knew, there was suddenly a reason why I needed to use my sleeve to wipe my face. The love I gave them, I gave it all without restraint, without second thought, without caution. Now that my heart is slowly breaking into pieces every time I go to sleep, knowing that I have one less day in their home, do I regret it? Do I regret loving them? No. That's like saying I regret every laugh I have shared with them, every prank we've pulled on one another, every family outing, and every single piece of happiness I have had in these past 1.5 months. No, it's only as painful as I was happy. To know that it hurts me to much, I should be grateful that I was able to feel the same magnitude of joy and happiness. Their memory will be with me forever. To Indonesia, where my love will always remain.

In other news, last weekend, I found paradise. Seriously, it was like I landed in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I got off the boat, walked the white sands, and asked my buddy, "Where's Johnny Depp?" I'll talk more about my weekend in paradise next time. Heartbreak and paradise don't mix too well together in the same post, they'll only take away from each other.

The Flying Hippo

2009-08-09T07:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went to Simpang Lima in Semarang all by my onesy-self. Very surprisingly, the conductor spoke to me in Indonesia. As of course, my response as usual was a "???" I really didn't want to do this, but I was convinced otherwise. My friend was visiting Semarang and really wanted to hang out with people, and although I kept saying that it was difficult for me to go by myself and return by myself so late at night, I did it anyway against my better judgment. So I wandered the mall for awhile, it was very nice. It's difficult for me to go shopping with other people besides my mother. Thus, at last, it took me three visits to the mall before I actually enjoyed it. Although it may just be my imagination, I think maybe going to malls by yourself is a rare thing because I attracted a lot of unusual glances. After awhile, I met up with my friend and watched "Harry Potter: The half-blood prince." Hilarious, but dark movie to say the least. I'll always remember watching Harry Potter in Indonesia, as I remember watching the Dark Knight in San Diego.

It's almost 10 PM here in Ungaran, Indonesia. Today was the most awesome day ever. Finally, I visit Sidomukti with Hera. Flying fox was ....awesome. I feel like some sort of fangirl blogging about an encounter with a tween superstar at a movie premiere. As I was high in the sky, moving across from hilltop to hilltop with only air separating me from the ground below, I could not help but laugh. I screamed at first because I don't like surprises much, and for some reason, it surprised me how short the duration of anticipation lasted and the conductor behind me just pushed me off the edge. But as I 'flew,' I could not help but feel ecstasy running through my veins, and that every part of me loved that I could feel nothing but the rush of moving air.

After the Flying Fox, I crossed the marine bridge. This was not as scary as I thought, but it was a lot more difficult than I thought. Silly me did not bring walking shoes, thus I had to walk across it barefoot because i was positive that if I wore my scandals, it would drop into the abyss below. Kidding, there's no abyss, but not kidding about the dropping. I was more worried about making a fool out of myself than falling off the bridge, which in fact would be pretty humiliating, so I suppose I was afraid of that, but not for the same reasons a normal person would be afraid for. I could not bear the thought of getting my leg stuck on that bridge and go through the humiliating process of it all: 1) Everyone discovering your embarrassing predicament; 2) Everyone watching as you struggle to get out of your predicament; 3) Failing and looking like a fat cow; 4) Succeeding to get your right leg out only to discover that your left leg just fell in as well. I was lucky to not have looked like a fool out there. I was not scared at all, but the person in front of me seemed very nervous and kept shaking the bridge as she walked. Several times, it made me fall off balance. But it was a wonderful experience. For some reason, being stuck on a bridge with other people and having people on both sides watching, encouraging, discouraging, and laughing at you really forms a human bond. For that one hour I spent AT the marine bridge (I wasn't ON it for an hour), somehow, everyone learned my name, probably because Hera kept screaming it, which then caused everyone else to scream it. And it's very interesting, because I managed to influence everyone to speak in English, at least to the best of their abilities. All I did was complain to Hera in English and before I knew it, people were speaking to their Indonesian friends in English. For me, it was very interesting. I guess I am very impressionable, despite what country I am located in. After I was done, it was my turn to laugh as Hera stumbled around the bridge. We met some guy that kept shaking the bridge, or as Hera calls him, "crazy man." It was so hilarious when people are all bunched up together on the bridge, and people start shaking it from the ends, and the people on the bridge fall down like dominoes. Oh, it's the best.

After the marine bridge, I did some rapelling. It was my first time. All my new found friends from the marine bridge sure enjoyed watching me struggle.
"Haven't you ever watched S.W.A.T.?!"
"I'm not S.W.A.T."
"They do it in movies, you know!"
"Well, it sure looked easy in the movies!"
"Be like Spiderman!"
"I'm not a spider, nor a man, and I'm certainly not Spiderman!"
"You're suppose to be like, in a 'sleeping' position."
"I really don't feel like 'sleeping' on air this very moment."
I managed to overcome my reluctance to be almost perpendicular to the ground. It was very easy after that. Although there was a moment where I slipped and I was just hanging and bumping my fat head and ass on the rocks. I believe my exact words were, "Ow, aw man."

I'm too itchy to think of a title. Plus, I have to pee. Hey, this is a good title.

2009-08-06T02:14:00.000-07:00

I just came back from my 3 day trip to Solo. Believe me, I've never been so excited to leave a place. For 3 days, I felt trapped in a very large boarding house with no one to talk to, and no place to run when the mosquitoes came flying after me. I felt like a sitting duck trying to ward off an army of blood suckers. On my second night in Solo, after being eaten alive (I swear, what the mosquitoes are doing, is not humane!), I decided to 40% DEET their mosquito asses! Well, it worked, I think. Although I've suffered a lot, there isn't one thing I would change. Since I've been in Indonesia, I've learned to take it all in and appreciate everything. Well, I don't look at an insect bite and think "This sure sucks, but I appreciate it, mosquito friends!" but I think "Although this sucks, I'm so blessed to be here in Indonesia. It is a small price to pay."

Last night, I saw my first full moon in Indonesia. Of course, full moons may have appeared more often during the duration I was here, but last night was the first time I noticed it. It reminded me of home. No matter where we are on Earth, everyone looks at the same moon. It's nice to have something so constant. It's like a souvenir from home that is always in your pocket, and it's something you can never lose or forget, which is a plus for clumsy people like me. In Solo, the night sky seemed so vast. In Indonesia, there is so much open land, no skyscrapers, just humble buildings that don't attempt to tower to the heavens. Then it hit me. I finally realized how far the heavens truly are, how incredibly vast the Earth truly is, and how small we are, like a microscopic particle in the greater universe. Sure we can do a bit of calculations, or build things thousands of times our size, or make little gadgets that make our lives easier. We have a bit of paper that we spend, we use it to buy useless things that make us temporarily happy. But ultimately, we are just small things. Who are we to ever be cocky? Who are we to ever be arrogant about ourselves? Our lives can never be eternal like the moon or our lives constant like the sunrise. We always try to find new ways to change the world we live in, but we still remain under the jurisdiction of the natural laws of the universe. Who are we to ever be so certain about anything other than that we can be certain about nothing?

Silly me, I still have not mentioned why I was in Solo. My school had a dance competition in Solo. I guess it's an annual thing. Every year, all the "disabled" schools in Central Java come and compete. There's music and dancing. Note that I quote "disabled" because that's what they call it here. In Indonesia, people don't spend their time trying to be politically correct. I suppose that's an American thing, always "spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror" (Jason Mraz song, yo!). Anyway, so I've been spending a lot of time with blind, deaf, and handicapped kids. They are really amazing. Sure others consider them physically disadvantaged, but these people can do things I can never do. They are not disadvantaged, they are just different.

I absolutely love my ibu and my bapak. I swear, my bapak and I are like two peas in a pod. We're both immature and spend too much time playing pranks on each other. You would think I would be homesick by now. Sure there are things I miss, but I'm too busy worrying about the little time I have left in Indonesia to think about returning to my life in the United States. I truly love this country, its people, and especially my host family. Some may say, "how can you love people you've only most recently met?" I say, "If love makes the world go round, why be so selfish with it?"

Blogger Mode

2009-07-29T01:19:00.000-07:00

In the past few days, I've had so many things I wanted to share with the reader(s) of my blog (Reader Count: 1 - Myself). But tragedy struck, I lost my phone. I'm trying to not be so sad about it, but it's all I'm thinking about. I mean, I could have lost my passport! If I lost my passport, I would have wished "Oh man! I wish I lost my cell phone!" Or I could have lost my passport...at the airport. I would have wished "Oh man! I wish I lost my passport earlier!" Or I could have lost my camera. And then I would have thought "Oh man! I wish I lost my cell phone, the camera is much more valuable!" Or worse, I could have lost my memory card. I would have though "Oh man, I wish I lost my camera, the camera is replaceable!" Or I could have somehow lost my life, but then I don't know if I could wish I have lost something else. But as a living, breathing person right now, I am glad I didn't lose my life. I wouldn't know where to find another one. Ebay is selling a new Samsung A707 for $90.00. I would be worse off if I lost my wallet and it contained $91.00!!

Long story short, I'm trying to not be sad because it's only a phone. I might sound like an ass to some by saying "it's only a phone" like I'm some sort of richass. But I keep remembering what Tyler Durden said in Fight Club, "The things you own end up owning you." No way! The only thing I want to own me is my momma...and probably chemistry, but only because it's part of the natural laws of the universe.

Changing the World

2009-07-22T01:59:00.001-07:00

I came here thinking that I would change or touch somebody's life in this country. But now I realized, it's me who is being changed.

I feel my heart opening up to the world. They told me that I always have to smile because it's polite and to not do so, would cause misunderstandings. It's pretty easy for me now. My smiles are genuine.

Bule! Bule!

2009-07-19T05:52:00.000-07:00

Back from another long day exploring Semarang. It was my first time on a motorbike, and I loved it. Sure my ass hurt a bit on the rocky roads, but on both sides of me, I see ricefields, trees, grass, farmers fishing, and suddenly my ass doesn't seem to care so much anymore. He (sorry! I'm no good with Indonesian names) asked me if it's like this in my country. I told him no, this country is a lot more peaceful.

Played with some angry, greedy monkeys today! They are really eager for peanuts! We had to hike down the hill to see the waterfall and caves. I wanted to die! It never ceases to amaze me how the heat and all the uphill walking never fazes them! They are like super people! Or maybe it's Americans that really like to sit on their bottoms all day. Afterwards, we visited the Great Mosque in Semarang. And after that, we visited the beach. I've never seen so much clothing on a beach before, haha.

When I was deciding whether I should visit Indonesia or not, the travel warning for Americans really concerned me. On top of that, my parents and close friends warned me about Moslem extremists and I was crazy for an American to visit a Moslem country for so long. I've come to realize that it was all negative speculation from people who really don't know what they are talking about. I'm not saying to ignore the recent Jakarta hotel bombing or any other terrorism directed at Westerners in Indonesia, but it would be wrong to say that the entire country is hostile to Westerners. Since I've been here, I've met the kindest people I have ever met. I feel sad that I have to leave Dejavato and move in with my host family. It's only been less than a week, and I've grown so attached to this place. In fact, I've grown attached to the people I met today whom I toured Semarang with, especially the person whose jacket I've spent a good couple hours holding for dear life.

So there we were sitting outside the Mosque waiting for our friends to finish praying, which is pretty much the most Moslem place there is, and remained unharmed. Instead, people wanted to take picture with the "bule," or "white foreigner." Of course, they were not addressing me, but Maddy and Alexia. They were full of smiles. I swear, here in Semarang, being a "bule" will make you the most popular person around the area. So many funny stories.

Long story short, I've never been happier anywhere in my life.

We are #1! We are #1!

2009-07-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

So I see a lot of these ads when I checking my Yahoo! mail. Interesting, isn't it? It's like everybody outside of the United States wants an opportunity to come in. I don't know how true that is, but it's pretty cocky to assume so, isn't it?

Going for a Ride

2009-07-15T19:38:00.000-07:00

Who says I'm not a daredevil? It's no wonder why my Math 3C professor said that young people statistically have a greater probability of dying every day than other people. We, young people, think that we can live forever. Yesterday evening, I was sitting on one of those carriages at the Semarang city center and went on a lengthy ride. When I say carriage, you might imagine a pretty horse straight for the pages of a fairytale and romantic flowers decorated all around. Well, it was sort of like that, but without a horse or flowers, with a little more of scrappy metal, dirty seats, and a brave Indonesian man just bicycling away in the midst of merciless traffic. I really felt like a poor whale sperm swimming in an ocean of sharks, trying to find my way home.

This is me throughout the entire ride:
"Whoa, whoa, whoa.."
30 seconds later,
"Whoaz!" *pant pant*
5 seconds later,
"Dear God Almighty, Lord in Heaven, Everlasting Father,..."
7 seconds later,
"AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!!!"

And I thought L.A. traffic was bad. And even worse, I thought Chinese traffic was the worse.

What am I?

2009-07-14T22:18:00.000-07:00

So far, it's been an interesting experience. Yesterday, when I was flying over Indonesia, the first thing I noticed was the color green. Even over Jakarta, the place is full of greenery. The city was not towering with skyscrapers, nor was it bustling with cars like it would be in New York City. I'm very excited to be part of this experience, I'm sure there is plenty for me to learn from and take from. The people here are very kind, especially here in Dejavato. I feel right at home. They say it's part of Indonesian culture to be always friendly and smiling ever so brightly. The kindness and friendliness here is so overwhelming, it's almost enough to melt by stone cold heart. Lol, I kid. But since it's part of their culture to be so friendly, I find it inappropriate to always wear my Nancy frown on like I do back home.

As I sit here typing this blog inside the Indonesian home of some of the friendliest people I have ever met, a young French woman lays next to me, peacefully reading. And next to her, a woman from Austria. To the right of me is a bookshelf filled with books that were donated by all the different volunteers that were here before me. I see Korean and Japanese script, German, and other European text I do not have the experience to recognize. Myself as an American-born Chinese. There's just so much diversity and culture here, it's amazing.

By the way, did I mention what a confusing presence I cause people? On the plane, the kind Indonesia-born, Taiwanese citizen asked if I was Taiwanese. I told her I was American, and she responded "How come you don't look American?" I lol'd in my head, and answered the best I can, "I don't know." Here at Dejavato, I perpetuate the same kind of confusion. Not to mention how "unamerican" I look, they would not have guessed I was Chinese. To them, I look like an Indonesian. It's very interesting what people from different countries percieve as "American." You would think that America, quite known for its characteristic of being a "melting pot," I wouldn't have encountered the confusion I have in the past 24 hours, how wrong I was.

The things we love, can they love us back?

2009-05-28T19:51:00.001-07:00

A woman who spends half her day maintaining her garden. You can't find more beautiful and more loved flowers in the world.

A girl who is always seen holding her teddy bear. Sure it's a tad dirty, but she'll cry the entire hour her mom takes it away to wash.

The man who spends his nights gazing at his favorite star. It's the greatest long-distance relationship in the world.

The musician with the violin, partners for life. Both needing one another to define themselves.

Do the flowers maintain the woman?
Does the teddy bear hold back?
Do the stars gaze back at the man?
Does the violin need the musician?

The things we love, do they love us back?

A new idea in the 'Pile of Ideas I will Probably Never Do'

2009-01-27T14:50:00.001-08:00

I've always been a very imaginative person. Every night, I sleep to stories that I make up in my head. They're usually about love, usually tragic. I don't know what this reflects about me, lol. I've been doing this since I was very young, probably when I first watched the CH drama series "Pearl Princess." For me, it started out as a way to rewrite the story into an alternate ending that I was satisfied with. Then, I would make up sequels, each night an opportunity to add to story. Then, I started to make up stories from scratch. I would dream of stories too, and maybe two times, woke up wanting to cry. I must be a drama queen of some sort. Because of my 'obsession' with tragedy, I should probably be a writer for K-drama.

Last night, I started to jot these things down. If I have time, I might write about the whole story. It's pretty complicated. I think if I do this right, it could be a serious tear-jerker. But knowing me, it'll probably turn out to be pretty ridiculous, and still be a tear-jerker in the bad way.

This all started when I was reading Twilight. One thought stayed with me throughout the entire time I read the series: How did this become a hit? If that kind of writing could get her so far, maybe I would have the same luck. I feel bad for all the much better writers in the world; I would be so angry, lol.

The Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama

2009-01-21T22:00:00.000-08:00

By the time I woke up Tuesday morning, I had already missed the inauguration of President Obama, but it was just in time for his inaugural speech. You'd assume an UCLA student would be competent enough to convert EST to PST. Everyone has been emphasizing how profound this historical moment is. I went to Anthropology class today...

Prof: Yesterday was a field day for all anthropologists. As anthropologists, it is our job to record and observe the events of this historic day. What do you guys think of it?
*silence*
Prof: Did any of you watch it?
*silence*
Prof: WHAT WERE YOU GUYS DOING?!

Her eyes and hair were a little nuts when she said that. Truth is, I'm sure each of the 300 students in that room knew how important that day was, we just didn't want to respond to her because she's so annoying. I don't like how she is so blatantly bias in her political views while also lecturing about cultural diversity.

I must admit, at the poll, I was a little bit hesitant to punch in beside Barack Obama's name. I was scared to put my faith in him. I was so worried that he would disappoint us. But I placed my bets on him anyway, like many other Americans, because there was total lack of faith for the other party.

I still don't think I completely understand how important this day is. I was not there when the United States faced the possibility of breaking into two. I was not there when there were laws that separated people based on color. I was not alive there when Martin Luther King Jr. gave his speech at the National Mall. What I understand is what I read in the pages of history books and the remnants of our country's past injustices.

I can not relate to the people with tears in their eyes when Obama took the oath of office. I did not cry, but I was certainly overwhelmed. It's true that I can not emotionally relate to how millions of people felt yesterday afternoon, those who never thought they'd see the inauguration of America's first black president. But as an American, I beginning to understand a little. For me, Obama embodied how wonderful this country is. The notion of America, being the land of opportunity for all, and being able to accomplish anything.... This inauguration is a source of inspiration for many, myself including.

I really hope this election marks the beginning of a good chapter in American history, especially after the last decade. What America needs now is a great president that will be recorded in history with the great's of our past, with Kennedy, Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt. I pray, that the accomplishments of Obama's presidency will outshine or at least on par with him being America first's African-Amercan president.

Pro-Israel Rally at Westwood

2009-01-11T18:48:00.000-08:00

An estimated 1,600 people stood at the United States Federal building at 11000 Wilshire. Men and women were holding signs, children waved flags ferociously. It was almost another typical day in Los Angeles, with sunny skies, with a subtle breeze that stirred the air. But on the lawns of the Federal Building, the subtle breeze seemed to whip the burning passions that emitted from the mass of Palestine and Israel supporters.

It was largely a Pro-Israel rally supporting Israel's decision to launch air and artillery attacks in response to unguided missiles fired by Hamas sixteen days earlier. From a distance, I noticed the yellow tape that barricaded the Israeli supporters on one side of the building, and the Palestinian supporters on the other side. Cars and motorcycles that zipped by honked to show their support, typically with a cheer to their respective side. Pasted on street poles were large stickers with the following message: Hamas = Little Hitlers. Not so far away, I saw a man holding a sign that read: Free Palestine. Stop U.S. Funded Massacres.

I decided to speak with the Israeli supporters first, them being the overwhelming majority of the protest rally. I met a middle-aged Jewish lady, probably in her 50's and 60's. Unlike many of the people there, she did not hold up a typical protest sign, but a painting. Hanna was a painter and on the canvas was a picture of the Israeli flag, with thick blue stripes that decorated the top and bottom of the piece. Between the two stripes, Hanna painted a large heart on the canvas with the Star of David in its center, and the inner hexagon of the star nested a picture of a dove. "The heart represents our love for the world, and the dove represents us. We are people of peace," Hanna told me. She further explained, "...the whole world is screaming at Israel when Israel decided to act. We strive for peace...I love my people, we have a track record of peace. We want to live in peace in our home....The only place we want to occupy is our home." Hanna believes that Israel only wants to claim its legitimate homeland.

I was walking around the Federal Building, near the parking lot. The event was coming to an end and people were walking back to their cars. I happened to be in the middle when the two groups intersected. The LAPD on their speakers continually repeated, "Return to your cars. Please avoid unnecessary conflict." LAPD back-up and the SWAT team were probably 30 seconds away, and did not arrive quickly enough to put an early halt to the clash that occurred. An angry man in his 40's, an obvious supporter of Israel, walked straight up to the opposing group, pointed his finger, and continuously shouted, "Are you a Nazi?! Are you a Nazi?!" A young boy, probably in his early teens stepped forward and exchanged words with this grown man. Waving the flag of Palestine in his right hand, and his left middle finger to the man, he yelled, "Fuck you! Bitch! Fuck you!" The man responded by spitting directly at the ground in front of him, a symbol of contempt. Cultural differences are learned, and with the enculturation of this young boy, it seems that ethnic strife had also been passed on to him from previous generations.

For about 15 minutes, the crowd at the parking lot grew larger, and so did the chaos that entailed. The SWAT team and the LAPD were trying to keep the two groups apart, but the people were restless with an anger that could not yet be quenched. The supporters of Israel chanted, "Terrorist! Terrorist! Terrorist!" I maneuvered myself to the side of the Palestinian supporters, and sure enough, they too were chanting, "Terrorist! Terrorist! Terrorist!" At the center of the chaos were mainly middle-aged men of both sides.

Both nationalities, the Israelis and the Palestinians are claiming the same land as "rightfully theirs." I spoke with an older man who exhibited his support for Palestine more "passionately" than many others through his actions. He continually waved the flag of Palestine and was frequently observed to participate in many verbal quarrels and exchanges of verbal abuse with counterparts that stood on the side of Israel. This man was not a Palestinian, but a Muslim from Morocco. He explained to me, "This is self-defense. Look at history, history does not lie. In 1948, there were only 2% Jews in Palestine. Now?...The Jewish people control everything." Aasia Rehman, a Palestinian-American, current UCLA graduate student and originally from Michigan, agreed. Her parents immigrated to the United States from Palestine. She told me, "The Palestinian people are oppressed by the Israeli government. They want to get rid of the Palestinians. The Israeli government are controlling the border. We want freedom...free access to food and water." Both the Moroccan man and Rehman agreed that Hamas are "not terrorists, but freedom fighters."

However, according to Benard Nichos, this was not the case. Nichos, a man in his 70's, wearing a cap with the flag of Israel on it and a shirt with the American flag, told me, "the Arabs buy up everything" and that the Palestinians "celebrate when their children are killed. It's propaganda." Then, a man in his 40's, who served in the Israeli army earlier in his life decided to join the conversation. He said, "Everyone is human. Israel came in, took homes What is war? It's all about 'Me! Me! Seizing land!', that's why the Palestinians are angry." He continued and said firmly, "This land belongs to everyone." But Nichos responds, "Hell no! God promised this land to Abraham!" The other man looks at him, shakes his head, and points at Nichos, "This is what's wrong with Israel."

The protest rally demonstrated the ongoing conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians, both nationalities claiming the same geographical region as their homeland. Most participants of the rally hold strong nationalist sentiments. The ethnic conflict has caused civilian casualties on both sides. They wave their flags relentlessly, displaying their love for their nationality and fighting for what they believe is their nationality's legitimate rights.

Boulevard of Dreams

2008-11-17T00:58:00.000-08:00

Today, Gordo and I went to Santa Monica. We were walking around this shopping area near Venice Beach. It was nice, reminded me of Powell Street shopping area in SF but outdoors, and lovely. The streets were already decorated in glowing colored lights and shimmering Christmas decorations. And then I heard the sound of strings. I've always been a fan of strings and nothing can capture my attention more than a talented violionist. He played some sort of modernized, pop remix of "Canon in D." It was unique and enticing. There was a crowd surrounding Joshua Vietti. It seemed that I was one of many who simply could not resist but give attention.

When I finally walked a bit further, there were a pair of acrobats performing stunningly. Then a bit further, a lonely saxophonist who did not share the same spotlight as Vietti played and played. There was a child who alone clapped for the saxophonist after each song.

These people are inspirational. It takes genuine passion and love to stand there. Each one on their own platform, showcasing their talent, hoping that the world will give them a chance. As with Vietti, the world can be quite generous. But sometimes, as with the lonely saxophonist, the world can give a cold shoulder. But each are giving their hearts and souls to achieve their dreams. How courageous it is to put faith in music and the performing arts. How courageous it is to depend on it for food, housing, and well being.

Hopefully one day, my heart, too, will burn of passion. Hopefully one day, I will be on my own platform, showcasing my potential, and that the world will give me a chance to make my own mark on it. Hopefully one day, I will learn to be courageous.

Where does the life go?

2008-09-15T01:26:00.000-07:00

That's what I'm thinking about. A body is like a shell. The blood is the volume of life. From the moment the small bundle of joy is born, the shell grows with the ever increasing volume that collects one's experiences, memories, emotions, and knowledge. But when the blood stops running, where does everything go? Does it just remain idle there, frozen in time and space? Does it leave the shell and return to the blood flow of the universe? Did we ever have our "own" life? Or did we simply borrow a piece of something much greater than ourselves, and in time, it would return when "our" time runs out? It seems very clear to me now, that the universe operates in an equilibrium. Whenever there is sunlight, someone else sees rain. Where there are villains, there are superheroes. A for apples and >.< for lemons. AM in China, PM in the States. Peace at home, violence in the Middle East. And where there is a celebration of a life born, there is mourning of a life gone.

I love you, grandma. Say hi to grandpa for me.

S for Superman

2008-08-04T10:09:00.001-07:00

Two weeks ago, I was preparing a speech for Toastmasters. I never got a chance to share it (Thank, God). But I'll humiliate myself a bit and entertain you (and show you how retarded I am if you haven't realized already). The topic was : If you were a superhero, who would you be, what would you do, and why? I sat down and thought about this a really long time, but couldn't come up with anything heroic I would do that would not sound cliche. So, instead...
----------------------------------

My name is Booger. I am Kaiser intern by day, and unstoppable villain by night—I am a cloaked dark figure that gallop through the city streets on a black horse. It’s near impossible to spot me in the darkness of the night. But you can hear me, you can feel me. I am the occasional scream you hear at the stroke of midnight. I am the mysterious chill that goes up your spine when a draft of wind blows through your windows. You can sometimes hear the neighing of my horse before a child’s scream, or the stomping of hooves before someone’s desperate yell for help. I am the reason why humans fear the dark, the boogeyman of your childhood, the source of your fear of your adulthood. They call me…Superstition.

I travel with the wind. In an instant, I can dissolve and become one with the wind. I brush across your face and comb your hair. I make oak trees shiver and cause even the fiercest of animals to hide in their caves. I then materialize into my human form in your homes. Your child or little brother or sister screams. You run into their rooms. You ask, “What’s wrong?” They say, “There’s something in my closet.” You open the door—see nothing except overgrown clothes and a medley of toys. You tell the kid, “See, there’s nothing.” You smile at them, trying to reassure them, and leave. But you’ve been deceived. In fact, there was something in the closet, I was in the closet. But you can’t see wind, you can’t see what’s invisible. I just stole the kid’s lunch money for tomorrow. But you didn’t know, and you’ll blame the poor kid for carelessly losing it. And at school, with nothing to turn in, the kid tells explains to the teacher, “My dog ate my homework.” The teacher humiliates him in front of his peers. The teacher calls you or a parent, and informs about the ridiculous lie that was just told. The parent grounds the kid, taking away his precious PS3 and bans him from all things fun. Poor kid. No one believes that he really did stay up all night doing his homework when suddenly, I came in, and ate his homework. Poor dog, the kid’s best friend, who gets blamed because it sounds so much more plausible.

I patrol the streets of your city with a keen ability to detect child happiness. I feed on joy and leave misery. So where and who do I victimize? Wherever the wind blows and there is the tiniest hint of a child’s smile, you can’t rest easy.

Cowardice

2008-07-30T17:00:00.000-07:00

“Okay, Morgan. Look normal, look confused” I tell her. I set the camera on timer in front of the Oakland Main Public Library. I suppose it would appear quite odd, but Morgan and I can’t really define “odd” anymore. But we were reminded.

“Stop taking pictures,” whispered a girl to her friend.

We ignored them.

“You guys look hella stupid, stop taking pictures,” she said again. It was becoming more apparent that these comments were being directed toward us rather than her friend.

But they continued to walk and comment. They walked, we ignored. They continued walking and insulting until more walking would relieve us from their irritating sight. But they stopped. She turned to us and said assertively, “Stop taking pictures.”

I think it was the perfect time to apply the lines from my favorite Comcast commercial: You come stop it, stop it reeeeeaaaaaal good. But of course, instead, I said something plain like “You stop it.”

“What did you say to me, bitch?”
------------------
My head: Oh, fuck.
Morgan’s head: I think she said it pretty clearly. :-\
------------------

I quietly whisper to Morgan, “I think it’s time to go.” So we walk slowly to slightly mask our great desire to get away from this over-reactive girl with issues.

I whisper to Morgan, “Why did I say that? I said that on impulse.” She responds indifferently, “I knew you were going to say that. You always say something back.” “What?! Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?!”

“What did you say to me? Stop walking, bitch.”

------------------
My head: Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man.
Morgan’s head: What makes you think we’ll stop walking just ‘cause you told us to. Gosh, stop telling us to stop doing stuff! So dumb.
------------------

We safely cross the street. We were wrong to think the traffic would stop her. She continues to tell us to stop walking. We continue walking until we reached the bus stop, where we would cowardly be in the company of three other people. After awhile, thinking that she may have calmed down, we turn to walk. I ask Morgan, “What are they doing?”

Morgan looks and calmly reports to me, “Well, one girl is running really fast on the street parallel to us. The other girl is not really doing anything.” I look.
------------------
My head: Oh, fuck! Crazy bitch wants to intersect us. She’s serious.
Morgan: Why is she running?
------------------

“Nevermind, Morgan. Let’s not go that way.” We walk back, and soon enough, she does as well.

“Okay, I can not lose my camera. I wouldn’t be so nervous if I wasn’t holding any valuables right now. We have to get out of here. Let’s take the bus.”

Morgan, “Aww, man. I don’t wanna use money.”

“We don’t have a choice, Morgan! Do you have two dollars on you?”

She briefly digs in her pockets. “No.”

I look at them again. She seems to be busy on the phone. A couple seconds later, I see a whole group of “wangster” guys circling her.

“Man! Morgan, can you believe we’re in this situation?”

“That girl is so bored. Can’t believe she called her guy friends out.”

“I know!”

“She’s so small, I bet I could beat her up if she didn’t have her boyfriends there,” Morgan nods in agreement with herself.
------------------
My head: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What are we going to do? I can’t believe I’m going to get beat up by wangsters. What the fuck is this? Oh, my God.
Morgan: Man, I bet they wouldn’t mess with us if I called my guy friends out here. .v.
------------------

“Okay, Morgan. We have to get on the bus, with or without money.”

The bus comes.

“Morgan, I’ll do the talking.”

We board. I pathetically ask the kind bus driver to give us a ride. I explain the situation to her. She saved my life.
------------------
My head: Phew..
Morgan’s head: They’re lucky. I would have unleashed my hellish powers on them and touch them with my oil. They would scream.

Urinary Bladder

2008-07-25T18:01:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, July 16, 2008
-----------------------------------
It was 3:15. I grabbed my voice recorder, notepad, pen, and notes, and was getting ready to head downstairs to interview the director of Kaiser’s Hubs and Core. Nervous, intimidated, afraid, I realized I really had to use the restroom. What is it with fear and anxiety that makes people really need to pee? I’m sure it’s not just me.

3:20 pm--So with my urinary bladder drained, there was no excuse to delay the interview any longer. I went downstairs, found the door, and knocked.

A cheerful lady with curly, golden hair opens the door.

“Hi, could you direct me to Shari’s office?” I ask politely.

“I am Shari,” she replies.

If I wasn’t so good at suppressing my emotions and feelings in public, my jaws would have dropped. If I was just two years younger, I would stare at her intensely, and the next sentence that would come out of my mouth would be a medley of stuttered words. But after all sorts of uncomfortable situations that I have experienced, I have become expert at smiling warmly even if there was absolute chaos burning within.

So I introduced myself. “Hi, my name is Nancy and I’m the intern who wanted to interview you about your career at Kaiser…” and then, for some reason, probably because of the fear of awkward silence, I couldn’t stop. I spent at least ten minutes talking about MYSELF in a 30 minute interview about HER. It was partly because she kept asking follow-up questions! Afterwards, she told me about her life and the many roles she has played in it. She was a world traveler, a consultant, clean-up crew in the Exxon oil spill in Alaska, firefighter, engineer, real estate broker, director, and now mother.

Shari has provided me with both wisdom and insight that will continue to encourage me in my future academic and professional endeavors. When I look at Shari’s approach to life and compare it to mine, I can not help to notice how opposing our personalities are. She is a risk-taker, and takes all life has to offer. She is not afraid of failure, and definitely not afraid to fully appreciate the big world, big community that we live in. Her lack of fear in the unknown and uncertain future and her affinity for new experiences has brought her here as a successful professional at Kaiser Permanente. If she had not enter through all the doors of opportunity that have been opened for her, she would be elsewhere today.

I strive to have that courageous character that Shari embodies. Unlike her, fear runs through my veins. But I realize that even though I may not be able to rid myself of that fear, I can not let it direct my life. Acting on fear is acting against success.

My 9,017-Word Post

2008-07-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

There are so many doors in this place...a true adventure, scary (almost haunted-like), but certainly rewarding!

That's so funny-bunny! Shut up, it's not. Why are you so mean to me?

2008-07-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

The lack of human contact in my secluded and remote office cubicle as put a toll on me. On one hand, I like the fact that I have freedom in my work environment. On the other hand, I’m not sure if talking to yourself is a healthy habit to develop. Over the past two weeks, my relationship with myself has developed into best-friend status—to the point where I have actual conversations with myself.

Me 1: Laughting at something stupid. Oh, that’s so funny-bunny (I also like to rhyme words).
Me 2: Omg, you’re doing it again.
Me 1: What?
Me 2: Stop talking to yourself.
Me 1: But it’s funny.
Me 2: People will think you’re crazy.
Me 1: So? It’s funny.
Me 2: It’s not even that funny!
Me 1: It’s funny to me.

It’s very likely that I need help. Socializing will probably solve the problem. But I’m not sure if I want to. I must admit, my life has become a lot more interesting. Finally, a person who gets my jokes!

Damn, right, you better not get rid of me. But what if want to, it’s not normal, you know? Normal people are boring. Mom calls me crazy! Mom’s crazy. Well, yeah…you're always right! :-)

It just occurred to me that if Me 3 is born, that would be extreme. I would use terms like "you guys" and "they" and "them." Lol. Omg, we would party all night long.

Snow

2008-07-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

Scholarship essays--they're the worst! This one is about my travel experience, feedback/constructive criticism is appreciated. :-)

-------------------------------------------------------------

Living in the Bay Area, the concept of “snow” seemed mystical to me. I knew it was real, just like how Santa Claus lives in the North Pole, a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, or how unicorns could be seen galloping in the forests as the radiant sunlight illuminates the forest canopy. But just like how I never went to the Arctic, followed a rainbow, or trekked in a forest, I could not relate to the concept of “snow” until I see it fall from the gray skies and into the warm embrace of my palms. Last winter in December, I had the opportunity to study abroad in China. I stepped out of the Beijing Airport and took my first breath of the winter air in China. I could see the vapor of my breath condensing to smoky trails that gently faded into the cloudy, polluted air Beijing.

But as always, life is disappointing. My dream of seeing snow was never realized, even in the middle of winter in China. What I saw was ice. What I saw was piles of ice shavings made from an invisible icee machine that magically appeared on the roofs of pagodas in SuZhou and sidewalk curbs when I was shopping on the streets of Shanghai. The street vendors selling ripped-off Rolex watches in the entrance of the Forbidden City told me, “It snowed last night!” In my dreams, “snow” wasn’t like a sneaky ninja that only operated in the darkness of the winter night.

I was gloomy, just like a lovesick teenager, yearning for the love-of-my-life, to literally drop from the skies. With my dream of seeing snow shattered, my entire world became a lot uglier to me—what I saw was probably something called “reality.” The country was rapidly industrializing. Construction workers were building skyscrapers that seemed like ladders to the sacred heavens. But all around, little shops and huts were marked with a red Chinese character—a character that symbolized its complete demolition and represented the sacrifice that had to be made in the lives of the Chinese people. And in the economic trade center of Shanghai, at first glance, it would appear that this city, was indeed wealthy. But outside of the Yu Yuan Bizarre were women in dirty clothes, with a baby in one arm, and extending their curved palm out with the other. They have a keen and desperate eye for travelers, taking advantage of their unfamiliarity with modern, Chinese society. The native Shanghaians, had Louis Vuitton handbags in their hands and Dolce & Gabbana shades that seem to not only block the UV rays, but the disparity in their rapidly transforming country.

Dry skies. Poverty. Materialism. I didn't have to travel abroad to see this. Our last stop was the Summer Palace in Beijing. The marvel that was the grand marble treasure of the Summer Palace, which took away from the Chinese people did not impress me. But what it sat on, what it was surrounded by--did.

There at the Summer Palace, I finally found peace. It was a chilly, winter afternoon. The winds gently brushed across my cheeks and combed my hair. The surface of the lake before me was blanketed with a sheet of ice. The trees surrounding me were naked and still. The world seemed to be asleep. It was beautiful and tranquil. But I noticed, there was still no snow. It was then that I realized that perfection can not be found anywhere on earth, even in the most beautiful of places. And that I found absolute beauty in a society, like all societies, that contained so many ugly things.

Path

2008-07-04T21:10:00.000-07:00

The questions are unavoidable. When you’re around that age and you don’t appear that dim-witted, the same questions are asked of you:

“Where are you going?”
and…
“What is your major?”

I pretty much memorized the exact dialogue I respond with, since I get asked quite often. The same answers are always given:

“UCLA”
and…
“Neuroscience”

Then, the doubts come in. They tell me that the major is “difficult” and how “[they] wouldn’t be surprised if [I] change majors.” Their verbal expression of their lack in faith in me was done so harmlessly. And even though I get it so often, I am never too offended.

Because I know, they’re just being realistic with the on-the-spot-made-up-in-their-head statistic from word-of-mouth data.
Because I know, people all too often underestimate human ambition.
Because I know, their faith in me is irrelevant. Besides, there’s no way I could disappoint ;-)
And because I know, I would be happy whether I do change majors or stick to my current one.

I believe that life is a learning process. And with my interests in the field of neuroscience, I would be happy to be in a great university with the opportunity to study it. But maybe it really isn’t my calling; there are not many things that are certain in life. And if I do end up changing majors, I do not mind either because it means I’m another step closer to where I want to be. Everything that is “not right” for me brings me closer to things that are.

The Little Things

2008-07-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

If I said I was "green," the real greenies would spit at my face. My parents still drive me with a gas car (gasp)! On a hot summer's day, I would readily turn on the AC (and since we're on the subject...the Bay Area is having a rather chilly summer this year). In the winter, I would turn on the heater instead of getting my ass up and grabbing a sweater (very stubborn about my t-shirt-all-year-long policy). But I've began changing my ways. And I wouldn't say that I'm "being green," but I would like to think that I'm being a more considerate person. Here are some changes in my life:

1. I'm currently typing this blog in the dark.
2. I shut down my computer everytime I leave for an extended period of time. (I was a person that left the computer on for months. And no, I'm not kidding. And yes, I'm serious)
3. Standby mode no longer exists. (Okay, that was a lie. It exists to a significantly lesser degree)
4. The bathroom with 5 switches, I now only use 2.
5. I brush my teeth in the dark (although I still can't floss in the dark...)
*6. My father drives half way to work and rides his bike for the remaining half. weird. o_o

Yes, in my attempt to live a more responsible life, I have become a creature of the darkness! It may be little...may be deemed "insignificant"...but I do what I can. And that's what I think everyone should do. Look around you, look at your life.

I think we often feel that being more "environmentally friendly" would somehow conflict with our rather comfortable lifestyles. In many ways, we live too lavishly. As an individual, the changes in our lives may be "small" in comparison, but "small," is a measurement of "something," and "something" is by no means synonymous with "nothing."

WALL•E

2008-06-30T00:16:00.000-07:00

I walked in the theater with high expectations, and walked out with complete satisfaction. WALL•E was beautiful, touching, and exactly what I needed to alleviate my semi-depressed state. :-) So the story takes place 700 years in the future. The fate of Earth is exactly what we feared--a global landfill not suitable for life. Our hero WALL•E picks up the human garbage, and has been doing it for hundreds of years. He also picks up little tokens of human life--lighters, forks, Christmas lights, toasters... But his most treasured item is the video is the video cassette of Oh, Dolly! WALL•E longs for the affection and warmth, hoping for another..uh, robot, to hold its hand and end his 700-year solitude.

And WALL•E does meet someone, and their adventure beings! They go to space, into a spaceship/temporary floating home for the human population, back into space, inside the ship again, and back to earth.

The movie is the first of its kind that I have ever watched. When the movie just began, I was actually confused why there was barely any dialogue. But I learned to appreciate this very much silent characteristic. For so long, dialogue was the heart of all movies. This film shows WALL•E's big heart by simply his interaction with his environment. On earth, he picks up the little things in our lives, like the jewelry box rather than the ring inside, and treasures them. He treasures his little cockroach pet. And when he met Eva (feminine robot), he treasured "her" presence as well and was excited to share with "her," all the random stuff he's treasured over the years. WALL•E, a garbage collecting robot, treasures all that is presented before it, even though he lives on an earth filled with waste. Makes us wonder...how come we, humans, didn't...when earth was still green and blue and vibrant with life?

Long story short, WALL•E is THE movie to see! A meaningful message that everyone needs to see. P.S. Sorry for getting all my pronouns mixed up, I really don't know what to call it/him/her!

2008-06-27T07:52:00.000-07:00

Never been much of a storyteller, but always loved stories. These past days, I’ve heard so many…stories that made me laugh, and then there were those that saddened me. It feels like my life has intersected with theirs in that moment in time. I knew of their existence. Some of these letters were hand-written, and through their penmanship, I seem to learn even more about them. I examine the way their fold their letters, they way to arrange it, the creases, coffee stains if any.

I know of an old lady, being sent to the emergency room after being hit by a car running 10mph. I know of an old man who rode on a plane to go vacationing and somehow got food poison. There was another old man who went to the emergency room after getting bug bites all over his body. And then there were those that made me think about all the sadness in the world. Like finding out ICD-9-CM diagnosis 995.53 is code for child sexual abuse. Or finding out depressed mothers going to the train tracks or overdosing...

We have become such a depressed society.

2008-06-26T12:18:00.000-07:00

Form after form, I still maintain interest. The numbers fascinate me. I have seen the entrepreneurial character of American medicine and practice. I think: Is life really priceless? Surgeries, ambulence, troponin, sterile tools, laboratory work...all ingredients for maintaining a life.

I look at the claim form, scrolling..scrolling..until I reach the total amount. $120,000...I slump my back to the chair in shock. To think, I have overglorified this industry for years. I feel disappointed, my spirit, my motivation and inspiration low. I realize something that wasn't so apparent to me before. In reality, as a civilization, we have changed so much that even life has become a market. Yet, when I wanted to be a doctor, I thorougly realized the financial benefits of being an American physician. I just didn't think that such a glorified duty such as health services can sometimes be a mericless monster, with an appetite that sends chills up my spine.

An eventful recently

2008-06-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

Six flags--SATURDAY
Reality is a slap in the face. Because reality is, she was too obsese to even be safely buckled on the roller coaster. Because reality is, he didn't have the money to take the bus to work. Reality is, I once again, denied a person something as trivial as money, and chose regret out of all choices.

Alice's Summerthing--SUNDAY
I'm going to modify a common saying, repetitive and butchered over the years and shall be overkilled by me, my apologies Ghandi: Have fun as if we'll be friends forever.

Work--Monday--
Ironically, the speeches on Friday were about universal healthcare. Arguments for it included the hours of paperwork in our current health care system. Working at Kaiser, I have been sucked into the quicksand of paperwork that knows no end!

Bone Marrow Donors for Michelle!

2008-06-14T21:22:00.000-07:00

Morgan and I have done everything together ever since we became best friends in middle school. We got our first summer jobs together, we took the same classes together, got owned together...Many would say, we are inseparable. We were even voted "Most Inseparable" in our senior class. Ironically, we are separating this fall semester have spending 6 years glued to one another. But today, we did something exceptional together. To say the least, it was one of the most proudest experience I have shared with her.

Today, we took the Daily City bart to Montgomery, walked to San Francisco Chinatown, and went to the Chinese for Affirmative Action, Kuo Building in search of the Project Michelle bone marrow drive. It was confusing at first because they moved it to the park outside. Anyway, eventually, we found our way. There was a man who was also informed about Michelle through KTSF, like I did. We arrived, they cheered. We sat down and started filling out forms. For some reason, it was a bit difficult for Morgan and I to check the "Yes" boxes when it asked if we were willing to be contacted if we were a match for some scientific terms I didn't quite understand. Which is also ironic since it was the only reason why we came to San Francisco this afternoon. So then, we signed our life away (j/k) and swabbed our cheeks for cell samples.

Morgan then turns to me, she says, "Did you know, I read in the brochure that you sent me...if you are a match, and you decide to cancel, most likely, that patient will die?"

"They said that?" I respond.

"Yes!"

"How evil!!!"

I hear laughter, apparently, there were eavedroppers around. -_-

It was really interesting how the drive took place in a park full of Chinese people, yet the tiniest fraction even cared to find more information regarding bone marrow donation. I think that the conservative Chinese REALLY do think...you are signing your life away.

2008-06-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

Nancy does not like to talk about her accomplishments. For example, last year, she asked for permission to miss her writing seminar every Friday. I naturally asked her, "Why?" She blushed, appeared extremely uncomfortable, ushered me to a corner of the room, and quietly informed me that she would be spending every Friday at the Jewish Coalition for Literacy tutoring elementary students in reading, writing, and math. And of course, I naturally exclaimed, "That's great!" only to be hushed. I'm not sure why Nancy is so subconscious about her accomplishments. From what I can see, she is quite an accomplished young woman. Academically, she has done quite well. Her hard work has not only earned her a 4.0 GPA at the Peralta colleges, but it also earned her the respect of her College of Alameda chemistry professor who wanted her to tutor other College of Alameda college students. When she studied abroad with her Chinese professor in Beijing, China, her instructor named her "Class Leader" and relied on her to ensure the success of the class. Her accomplishments do not stop there. Outside school, she volunteers at the Alameda Youth Committee and the One-Stop Career Center; she worked as an intern at the City of Oakland, Public Works Agency and INSIGHT Center for Community Economic Development, and Convergent Laser Technologies. She dedicated three years to the school newspaper and the school yearbook. She is an excellent pianist, and many of us have already heard her play, who participates in the National Piano Auditions. In short, she is accomplished. I think the reason why Nancy is so self-conscious about her success if because she is quite humble. When asked to describe what she was most proud of, she said "I'm ever grateful for the doors that have been opened to me at ASTI." Nancy's genuine humility is gracious and enduring. Having now been exposed here now, I'm sure Nancy is, in her seat, dying a slow death. I think Nancy should be really commended for her accomplishments. She is an incredible young woman, and she should be commended for that before she attends UCLA as a neuroscience major next fall.

Congradulations, Nancy Yu.

2008-06-03T19:31:00.001-07:00

I grab a seat on the bus. I always like the ones by the window. I like to see the world outside, watching people as they live their lives, not knowing that our lives intertwined at that very second. I look forward, and the man in front of my smiles. He has has tan hat on with a matching coat, bag and a wooden but curvy walking stick, like one you would see in the Lion King or some sort of jungle related movie. He takes out this plastic bag, and asks "Do you want some?" He smiles. I look and see doughnuts. I smile back, "No thank you." I never knew that inside a bus could be so pleasant as well.

2008-05-28T20:18:00.000-07:00

With Mo by my side, we discuss our class meeting with Ding Laoshi, and wonder what went wrong. I'm peacefully, but thoughtfully contemplating. Then I hear it, panting, I turn.

Inside his pickup truck, windows completely rolled down...
Fat, naked up, naked down, the cursed thing swings rapidly back and worth.

I quickly turn around. I grab Mo. She says, "Ow."

Trauma becomes confusion. With clarity, there is anger. I go back, he's gone. Curse him for tainting my mind with grotesque images.

2008-05-27T12:11:00.000-07:00

It all originated from a pair of Italian sunglasses that the one-eyed man accidentally left on the BART. They asked me for them. For reasons that only annoy me, those two...they ask me for them. I had to reject them three times with a simple "no." They even made me say it in their ear. They had the nerve to make me explain my blunt rejection to their ridiculous request. For simplicity, I tell them "because I want them." As we walked out the train doors, they suspiciously glance at the glasses I held on my right. I change hands.

I get off the BART at downtown Berkeley. I hear "Chink" and "Chinese Bitch" as we parted. Farewell.

Now, I must think of ways to meet this man again.

2008-05-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

Intensity! It's war of the best friends! Gordon and Minj vs. Sho and I! Sho and I should win! We were the first to get into an open relationship, and plus, we have a song! Sho is awesome, we are like two peas in a pod. :-) He's like a girl too, he might even replace Mo one day, lol. I adore him like a little brother, but he's older than me. o_o But in case there are misunderstandings, let me state now that we will never be anything more. So Mo, don't be jealous. ;-)

2008-05-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

ASTI Prom was last night.

Drinking. Freaking. Not so much. First time I danced so close to a guy, very disturbing! But he liked guys, so I was more calm. :-) Also got a kiss on the cheek, thank goodness it wasn't somewhere else else the face, so awkward. Almost got fed cake, but I adamantly refused. Met Gordon for the first time, he's awesome. Took a lot of pictures and re-discovered once again, my head is enormous. .V. Other things?...=X

Crazy things happen at prom.

2008-05-13T15:59:00.000-07:00

I feel a gentle, wiggly movement on my thigh. I look. I see this tremendously furry creature crawling on my lap, its antennas wiggle somewhat randomly in my perspective, its direction--lost. Out of instinct, using my water bottle because of my phobia of touching things, like a bat, I swing--except like an upside-down swing (lol). In slow motion, I see it fly, I see it arch across space and time. It finally lands, and on the entrance of the bus. I wonder about its safety, I see it wander naively across dangerous territory, where clueless people broad in and out.

It's my stop. I get off. I stand. I look back. It's still safe, but I wonder how long. I want to go back, but with too much doubt running through me, I just stand. The bus door closes, and it parts. Poor little caterpillars don't belong on buses.

I walk to school, wondering if the Caterpillar God would charge me with murder.

2008-05-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY, MAY 9, 2008.
Sho and I discuss about our dinner plans scheduled on a Friday. Extreme confusion leads to ultimate confusion.

[15:55] nancyhippo: i thought you were taking us out to dinner tmr
[15:55] nancyhippo: get it checked!
[15:56] its wabaffet: oh
[15:56] its wabaffet: nooo
[15:56] its wabaffet: next friday
[15:56] its wabaffet: wait
[15:56] its wabaffet: tomorrow is
[15:56] its wabaffet: sunday

2008-04-20T19:43:00.000-07:00

2008-04-11T19:58:00.000-07:00

I did something unbelievable today. I missed the entire "Student Life" section of the UCLA College Welcome Day session, because I somehow got lost. All I had to do was cross the street, but I'm an overachiever, so I crossed many many streets. UCLA is beautiful. The story of the Royce Hall really moved me, only God is perfect.

2008-04-08T22:04:00.000-07:00

The chilly winds, like continuous ocean waves, incessantly brush across, by, through us. I wonder to myself if it's too late to retrieve my eye drops from the chem lab. we arrive, the room dark as the sky above us. As we waited for daddy, we talked about dorms. I hug her, both a habit and a form of shield against the cold. She tells me, "Oww."

2008-04-07T22:03:00.000-07:00

With the aid of my dearest Angie, I found out something about myself. Apparently, I create walls around myself, and see if others break down them. She certainly didn't.

2008-03-30T22:09:00.000-07:00

I cuddle on the sofa, with a ridiculous, ear-flapped, knit hat on my head and a down jacket covering my lap. It's a habit of mine, a trickery of the mind. I think, if I put my life on pause, time itself pauses with me. But I'm wrong, life moves on and I'm even more behind than usual. I gather myself together, with many things on my mind, including midterm grades I'll be receiving soon and Yale and Princeton notification tomorrow, I continue with my homework.

2008-03-27T23:52:00.001-07:00

The expected Berkeley acceptance. The unexpected UCLA Alumni scholarship interview rejection. I would rather have liked the two results switched. Minjie is on my mind. Some par of met, I suppose the less hateful part, would want her UCB hopes to have been answered.

2008-03-23T23:01:00.001-07:00

Still fun from the half pound burger I ate yesterday at Bay Street, I managed to finish a couple rounds at a Buffet in San Mateo today. It's a wonder how much room a stomach has.

2008-03-21T00:57:00.000-07:00

My precapillary sphincters loosen, my blood drains. I login to my email with fear, thoughts of the "9% UCLA acceptance rate" fresh in my head. I click "inbox," then the link, and I see, "Congratulations." I rejoice. I later found out it was actually 23%--the power of Minjie's confusion spreads like an epidemic.

Smile for the Camera

2008-03-13T00:15:00.001-07:00

I anxiously open the Walgreens photo package.

At last.

There is a brief joy.

2008-03-11T23:34:00.000-07:00

The conversation with Professor Olds finally became comfortable, after five minutes of boisterious dialogue on his end on the bus. We walked on the long passageway of College of Alameda and continued to discuss about schools and the future. He asked me if I plan to go to graduate school. I tell him "yes," and he tells me, "I went to graduate school three times." I laugh.

"So, studying rocks at Berkeley, huh? How's that going?" I ask him, hoping to pry into his personal life that he rarely mentions.

"Well, yeah. It's fine. It's fun," he pauses and with a bit of reluctance he finally tells me, "Yeah, I'm trying to get my Ph.D."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed.

He laughs, "Yeah, I'm a Ph.D. drop out, but I'm back in the game!" He chuckles some more, "I'm the oldest graduate school student ever."

I can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm and his choice of words.

2008-03-08T23:41:00.000-08:00

Mom comes home, "So, how did it go? Did you guys go running?" I remain quiet, as I always do, hidden in the computer room doing the usual useless things. "Yes" answers Dad, "It was so tiring." Mom scoffs, "Well, count how old you'll be turning this year, then count hers!" Dad laughs "I thought I could outrun her too." As I sat listening, it occurred to me again, how scary aging and time really is.

Heavy-hearted Fool

2008-03-07T22:20:00.000-08:00

I long to touch the white keys.
But they now feel cold and sad.
I snuggle beneath the blankets for warmth
to escape
and to see again
they both go hand in hand.

2008-03-07T22:06:00.000-08:00

I laugh hysterically at her. "Oh my God, Morgan. Why are you so retarded?!" She looks at me, almost in disbelief, "What? You're the one that is retarded!" I look back at her, "What? When was the last time I was retarded?" She tells me, "Like, the whole last 10 minutes!"

2008-03-06T22:56:00.000-08:00

I sneakily tip-top to mom's bedroom, waiting at the door with my finger curled in front of my face. Mom comes out unexpectedly, and looks at me indifferently, "What are you trying to do?" "Uh..nothing?" I answer with my fingers still awkwardly out. "Are you trying to scare me?" she asks again. "Uh, no. I'm just trying to..uh..enter the room." "Oh," she responds and leaves the room. I flop on the bed and wonder if my ninja-abilities have deteriorated.

2008-03-05T22:48:00.000-08:00

Mr. Dadd chuckles, "Looks like James is doing tricks now." James looks embarrassingly at Mr. Dadd. "You're all putting the bouncy ball on your nose. You're like a seal!"

When his eyes met mine,

2008-03-03T22:02:00.000-08:00

我觉得自己好像失去了对我很重要的人。

His memory, like the shadow of my thoughts, parts not from me.
My heart, so heavy, for reasons unknown
Or for reasons only the universe would understand.

Li Yundi at Herbst Theatre

2008-03-02T23:37:00.000-08:00

I don't think I've ever been this smitten, even with my first love. I feel like a fool. I look at his autograph on my ticket stub and I giggle like there's something funny on it. I took a picture with him, several too. At first, I thought I would be satisfied with just a look at him, but I knew I would regret if I didn't get an autograph and picture of some sort. I was within an inch from him, oh my God, I sound like a stalker.

He really did blow me away with his performance. Teacher Zhou's husband said he played better last time, and that he didn't play Liszt's Widmung well. I haven't listened to Liszt's pieces enough to tell a difference. However, I was absolutely mesmerized with his fingers--how they danced across the keyboard so gracefully and easily. At several points in the performance, I was actually moved that I got teary. I think I'm in love with his talent, more than Yundi himself. Although I think he's just too "shui," I found myself staring at his fingers almost the entire time during the performance, and not at his face. At the autograph session, I was nervous just to think that such a prodigy was right before me. Tonight was probably the closest I'll ever be next to a talent like him. It makes me kind of sad that I probably won't see him again. But I'll keep a copy of my ticket stub in my wallet. It'll serve as my inspiration, and I'll continue to strive as he has done.

I don't think Yundi played as well as he could have. They said he was nervous. When I really think about it, it does seem like that. I think he's under a lot of pressure, and his busy life of constantly touring the world must have put a toll on him. I sometimes wonder if he likes the life he has now. Does fame take away the joy of piano-playing?